


Sleeping Beauty

by jackelope



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Demon Sex, Dubious Consent, Felching, Incubus Hannibal Lecter, M/M, Mostly Smut, Rimming, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-28 17:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackelope/pseuds/jackelope
Summary: As of late, Special Investigator Will Graham has found himself plagued by persistent and incredibly vivid sex dreams, which he does not know to be product of frequent visits from his friendly neighborhood incubus - who also happens to be his therapist.





	Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> 2spooky halloween fic is here binches!! a touch late but hey, can't win 'em all lmao. anyway here's some spicy demon sex with incubus!Hannibal (or sort of alp!Hannibal I guess), hope u like :))

Nightmares he could've dealt with. Nightmares would've been normal. Getting back into this kind of work after all those years, having to dredge the depths of humanity's visceral depravity in the name of all that was hopefully just – such circumstances lent themselves easily to nightmares. Vivid, horrifying nightmares, even; ones that reached in and raked his brain and left him tired and rattled in the morning. The things he'd seen should've festered in his subconscious and filled his brain's idle meanderings with violent images, soured his sleep and turned it restless. And yet, since he'd started working as a homicide investigator again, naught but one or two bloody, fearful dreams had visited him, and they had been so unremarkable that Will had quickly forgotten all but the most basic of details about them. Instead, what typically laid in wait underneath his pillow were visions that made nightmares seem preferable, even if only because he could've _rationalized _nightmares.

He wasn't having nightmares – he was having wild, torrid sex dreams, every bit as decadent and salacious as those nightmares weren't. About people he knew, about people who used to know, about indeterminate figures whose identities shifted throughout the course of the dream. Almost always about men, but sometimes about women, or women with male sexes, or men with female sexes – all touching and toying with him, lewd hands and warm tongues tracing his cock, his balls, his hole, any sensitive spot on his body they could find. He'd had dreams about being penetrated from nearly every position his brain could conceive, interspersed with dreams that painted his shaft being fervently ridden by whatever bizarre figure of desire happened to have been conjured there. Very rarely, in these dreams, was he ever in control.

He'd hardly had a proper wet dream since he was a teenager, and then out of nowhere he'd been having them with alarming frequency, having persisted for _weeks_ by now. He'd wake up painted with rapidly drying sweat and immediately snake a hand down to his groin, more often than not feeling a distinctive sticky wet spot coating the front of his briefs. Sometimes he even felt worn-out, physically _drained_, as though he'd actually been having fervent sex like that while he slept.

There was nothing to ground these episodes, no possible way for them to conform to reason. This sudden immense increase in his subconscious libido would've been alarming regardless of the timing, and with that taken into account it started to pose even _more_ questions. But these kinds of psychological quandaries were supposed to be what he had Hannibal for, right? Except for the fact that the advice he'd taken from his technically unofficial therapist hadn't helped in the least. He'd had to delve far too deep into his sexuality in their sessions, in the hopes that he could air whatever it was that was causing this out enough to reconcile with it and let it dissipate. That hadn't happened – it hadn't lessened _at all_, in fact, and if anything had gotten worse. What was his answer supposed to be?

If only he could've had nightmares. Every night as he stared up at the featureless landscape of his ceiling, pale blue with night and offering no solace, not even in its familiarity, Will tossed a coin in his head and anxiously wondered whether or not more fantastically debauched sex scenes waited for him once he'd finally lapsed into sleep. He swore up and down that he would've preferred nightmares; sleep might've come easier to him then.

When he did eventually drift off to sleep, he ultimately had no control over whether or not his weak, slumbering mind decided to generate more of those maddening carnal visions – for, in fact, they were not even _his_ at all. They were born of a being that swept, in the form of a loose clump of smoke, underneath his bedroom door. Clothed in nothing but darkness, it watched him, swirling and condensing into the shape of a long-limbed humanoid. If Will had, by some violent wrenching of fate or catastrophic failure of his visitor's senses, managed to wake up and lay eyes upon this beast, he may have recognized its face.

It was someone he knew. And yet, at the same time, it was entirely alien. It had the features and the figure of an individual he knew in his waking life, but was decorated with additional, unearthly attributes: eyes white as the moon and half as luminous, staying bright but casting no light outside themselves; twisted, ridged horns parting its hair as they spiraled upwards; tar-black leathery wings that it folded and pressed as close to its back as it could; a lengthy, ever-twitching, and equally as ebony tendril of a tail; and a long, curved black claw at the end of each digit, accompanied by a spattering of darkness that crept up its hands and feet like coal dust. Even at a glance, it was incontestably infernal.

A spirit immutably imbued with malice, a servant of its own malevolent impulses, and an entity which saw in Will Graham an incomparably perfect piece of prey. Empathic, receptive, unable to prevent himself from sharing bits and pieces of his mind with other people. Even while unconscious, his synapses never failed to snap perfectly into a connection, as though he were incomplete when he wasn't linked with another psyche. And, to top that off, he was _touch-starved_ – so delectably, deliciously lonely, pining in the very depths of his soul for even a scrap of physical intimacy. So lonely, indeed, that his being was willing to accept such intimacy from a creature as vile as the one that now sat in the corner of his bedroom, eyeing him with twin orbs of lunar glass. Indeed, Will Graham seemed to be so perfectly vulnerable that it would almost feel graceless to prey upon him.

The operative word in that phrase, however, was _'almost'_. After all, there was ultimately no way this phantasmal guest of Will's could deny itself the superlative satisfaction it would get from a victim so flawlessly ready for it. Its narrow lips twisted themselves into a grin as it watched Will's eyes twitch beneath their smooth, wan lids. Will was dreaming now, which meant that the main event was due to begin. Moving without a noise, the crouched figure crept lithely on its hands and feet up to the edge of Will's bed, then paused to peer over and make sure he remained undisturbed. Will did not so much as spasm in his sleep, and his haunter, satisfied with this result, swiftly pulled itself up onto the bed and delicately maneuvered its limbs to position itself astride Will's lower abdomen. It kept its gaze locked on Will's face as, with a near-silent purr, it leaned forward to examine him.

And, of course, that was not its sole intention. The beast trained its focus on Will's soft, slumbering mind, trying to dig its way inside. But Will, the pliable, complacent victim he was, accepted the spectre's influence so easily that climbing into his dreams was as simple as parting a curtain. In a cushioned, accented voice, it murmured, “Yes, you like it when I visit, don't you?” Will's eyes bobbed under their veils as though in agreement. “It always feels so good, doesn't it?” The entity hummed, though Will could not properly hear it. What traveled through their psychic link was nothing more than vague ideas, suggestions which would guide Will's unconscious visions and keep him fixed in the mire of sleep. Its charm, however, was strong enough to keep Will asleep through both speech and touch, so these gentle vocalizations wouldn't disturb him; they were merely a way for this phantasm to toy with the otherwise vapid silence that surrounded the two of them.

Its slick, grayed hair stayed in place as it leaned even closer to Will's face. It grinned at the night's first succulent taste of Will's breath, and once exposed to the gentle moonlight, its sharp teeth began to glitter. It lustily traced its long, purple-black tongue over its incisors, uttering a raspy breath of quiet anticipation as it did so. Now certain that it had a strong hold on Will's mind, it lifted itself back up and laid its hands on Will's chest, tail dancing about almost excitedly. With so much care as to possibly constitute precision, it shifted its weight back to grind its butt against Will's sex, repeating that languid movement in a slow, steady rhythm until it felt the first tiny pulse of response. It then paused and held itself there for a moment, letting its stirring heat bear down on Will and continue to hasten that steady throb of blood to his groin.

A tiny sigh that was almost a moan slid through the spirit's teeth at the way Will's cock was finally starting to twitch with need beneath it. With arousal now filling his body, Will's subconscious bloomed with the urge to produce carnal visions to match that sensation. Resuming its gentle grinding, the creature sitting astride Will hummed out, “So, who do you want to fantasize about tonight, dear?” and waited to see what sprang from the mire of Will's sleeping mind. However, it was taken aback when its unconscious victim immediately lept to a particular individual whose features bore an uncanny resemblance to those of the fiend perched on top of him. Said fiend lost its smirk and laughed with an edge of discontentment. “No, no, dear, you can't dream about _him_.” It scolded Will vocally, though the notion of Will having visions like that was, in its own right, quite alluring to this apparition.

In the past, it had stalwartly prevented such, not wanting to risk Will's exceptionally deductive mind connecting the invisible identity of the creature that helped weave his sex dreams with said creature's more corporeal form. The earthly explanation was that Will's psyche was, of course, omitting Hannibal Lecter from these lurid illusions because he thought of the man as an anchor, being the individual tasked with trying to aid him in staving off these disturbing nocturnal episodes of his. It wasn't unbelievable by any stretch of the imagination that Will, beneath his conscious capacities, had walled his therapist off from his sexual visions. However, permitting such an irregularity – allowing, at last, for Will to carry Hannibal into his riotous wet dreams – would have brought about an ineffable synchronicity between the physical world and the quiet shared illusions of these two connected minds. That idea was deeply and genuinely tempting to this daemon that _was_, despite its otherworldly attributes, the very same entity as Hannibal Lecter.

After all, when the moon shifted phase, it didn't suddenly cease to be the moon anymore. Hannibal was much the same; this transient, hellish version of himself was no less Hannibal than the human shade of him that Will met with in his waking life. But to have both sides of this duality interact with him at once – one face attending to his physical body while the more presentable one stayed between the inert Will and reality – that was unprecedented. Dangerous as well, should Will somehow come to understand any linkage between Hannibal and the dreams he had spawned, but nonetheless appetizing to Hannibal himself.

Hannibal gently tried to redirect Will's unborn dream in a different direction, assailing him with the visages of other men he knew in waking life and hoping one of them might stick, but Will's subconscious seemed remarkably resolute this night. Taking as much of a second as he could afford to weigh his options, Hannibal released a deep breath and stopped his attempts to combat Will's train of thought. “Alright, sweet, just this once.” Whispered Hannibal as he closed his eyes for a moment to drink in the flood of desire emanating from Will's psyche. The recesses of his mind were alight with longing for Hannibal, or at the very least a shallow, accessible projection of him.

Bowing to their mutual hunger, Hannibal straddled Will tighter and resumed his grinding against Will's groin, rougher this time. However, he was very careful not to overwhelm his victim and risk accidentally jolting him out of his dreamstate. He felt Will stiffening rapidly beneath him, his cock pressing up against Hannibal in its animal longing to be pleasured. “Hmm, I know, darling.” Hummed Hannibal in response to Will's mounting, aching desire. His dream was starting to take form, envisioning the more material incarnation of Hannibal on his knees, groping Will and murmuring abstracts of his desires. Yet they were not truly _his_ desires, they were _Will's_, filtered through his perceptions of Hannibal and relayed back to him. The eavesdropper in his dream listened gladly, white pupils swelling with lust as it devoured every scrap of that longing. Will was – albeit indirectly – feeding him instructions, and he would be glad to follow them.

But, first, there was something that needed to be done. As swiftly and silently as possible, Hannibal swung himself off of Will, taking care not to let his weight land too hard on the bed. One familiar beat of pause ensued as Hannibal made sure he hadn't unsettled his victim at all, followed in turn by Hannibal languidly reaching out to hook one of his claws underneath the waistband of Will's underwear. Then, at an agonizingly slow pace, he lifted the band and began guiding Will's briefs down over his member, watching it spring up eagerly as soon as it was relieved of its gentle imprisonment. Hannibal purred happily at the sight, then leaned his face down so that his hot breath buffeted the sensitive flesh, savoring the sight of it twitching beneath him and the raw, musky smell for only a second before gently touching the point of his tongue to the tip. This didn't seem to startle Will's nerves too much, prompting Hannibal to start moving his tongue gingerly along the slit. Will's pulse thrummed and his shaft quivered at this surge of pleasure, but he remained far from waking. He was begging for Hannibal to suck him, to keep licking his cock until he couldn't take the sensation any more, but Hannibal had his own motive to consider.

In order for this arrangement to work, Hannibal needed to come first. Will was almost certain to wake up once he came, and Hannibal was far from keen on revealing himself to Will like that – and also far from keen on having to wait until Will fell all the way into REM sleep again to sate himself. Things were much easier if Hannibal finished first, then made Will come once he was ready to depart. That was the way his kind had done things for centuries – for millenia, even – and it was far from him to disrupt a tried and true formula. Active seduction was also an option, but entailed much more effort and commitment, as well as presenting an additional slew of obstacles. Though, a part of Hannibal did wish he had tried such with Will; he had grown particularly fond of this victim. He had truly never encountered anyone so delightfully easy for him before, nor anyone whose fantasies were so vividly impassioned as Will's.

But he couldn't maintain these kinds of incursions forever, and he knew that very well. Eventually, something would break – most likely Will's psyche – or Will, with his impressive cunning, would, regardless of all efforts, deduce that Hannibal was responsible for his torment and pursue a resolution for it in one way or another. Such would certainly not end pleasantly, which meant Hannibal would ultimately have to leave Will behind – or, if he felt exceptionally brash, reveal himself to Will. Perhaps offer him a pact. His kind almost _never_ made pacts, generally needing nothing from humans they couldn't easily get just by themselves. The typical sort of covenant between a demon and a mortal being was meaningless to them. But, if he made a pact with Will, a little infernal blessing for his stamina could be very mutually beneficial. He could cultivate a perfect host, someone with the endurance to spill for him whenever he wanted. Opening the floodgates for a touch of unearthly power in Will would scarcely even take anything from him, certainly not enough to worry about. And then, then they might never have to part at all.

But that wasn't a decision to be made in haste. He'd need more time to think such over; in the meantime he had been naught but mindlessly pressing the tip of his tongue against the head of Will's cock while he'd been lost in thought, which was understimulating him and causing him to grow restless. Hannibal pulled back, unable to resist another smile as Will gave a figurative whimper of dissatisfaction at the sense of loss that caused. He'd not been thinking about the (however faint) telepathic connection between them for more than a few moments, and incidentally it seemed he had transferred to Will a sense of attachment. Complex thoughts didn't flow well through this kind of connection (there was typically no definite need for such), but Will's exceptional empathy made it difficult to withhold thoughts from him, and he had apparently at the very least picked up on the idea that Hannibal was partial to him – and such seemed almost _comforting_ to Will. That decadent desire of his had increased practically tenfold, fingers twitching as he pictured running them through Hannibal's silky hair, pictured himself grasping at the back of his head and begging in supplication for Hannibal to keep going.

Hannibal was awash with ecstasy at this flood of sheer _need_ Will was giving him. And how wonderful it was that Will had become so excited at the mere sensation that his partner felt affection towards him. That loneliness he carried on his shoulders was so absolute and invasive within him that he not only accepted the intrusions of this devil with ease, but veritably _longed_ for him. Caving quickly to Will's unconscious cries for more, Hannibal gently rolled his shorts further down, stopping once they were about his knees to eased his hands under the sides of Will's thighs and then begin to slowly lift his legs. Regardless of his telepathic sedation, it was still certainly possible to wake him, which meant that caution – as well as a precise and constant awareness of his partner's state – remained important. Hannibal shifted Will's legs as far apart as his underwear allowed, then nudged his head between Will's parted thighs, leaving his legs resting over Hannibal's shoulders. With that accomplished, it was only a matter of lowering himself back down carefully enough that he still didn't disturb Will. The slightest twitch anywhere in his body gave Hannibal immediate pause, making the process rather slow, but it was nonetheless a perfectly successful maneuver.

Now perched with remarkable poise at the end of Will's bed, with his head between his victim's legs, Hannibal nudged his face even closer to Will's opening and let his lengthy tongue slither out of his mouth. Its narrow tip pressed up against Will's hole, tracing the rim almost delicately. Within moments Hannibal's teasing had Will's sensitive entrance spasming open and inviting him inside. His dreaming mind joined in just as quickly, begging with such a fevered passion that his pleas sent a shiver staggering down Hannibal's spine. Taking a breath to relieve himself of the dizzying feeling of ardor fizzing in his bloodstream, Hannibal timidly began to oblige. The particular angular shape of Hannibal's inhuman tongue allowed it to penetrate Will with exceptional ease, and its length meant it could get a fair bit deeper than a person's – though Hannibal was currently holding back on that front. Gentle twists, just barely around the inside, building up his desire and slavering at every voiceless cry of _“More, more, harder, deeper.”_

A mere moment's pause, and Will's slick, tender hole was already blinking from the loss. Hannibal purred and pursed his lips, blowing a soft stream of air over it, watching it quiver and hearing a plaintive howl echo in the back of his head. “So _needy_.” Hannibal chuckled, the tip of his tongue languishing right next to Will's rim but not touching it. Will seemed to agree with his declaration, in a supplicating sort of manner, which Hannibal was too greedy not to enjoy; he gladly plunged his lively tongue back into Will's warmth and licked inside him to the rhythm of his own desire. At the same time Will was opening for his tongue, Hannibal's erection was twitching on top of Will's sheets, begging Hannibal to move his hips even the least bit so that it could at last be allowed _some_ stimulation. As was somewhat inherent in his nature, Hannibal was deft at controlling the urges of his body, which conflicted only with the fact that he rarely _wanted_ to.

Hannibal lightly pressed the points of his fangs onto Will's skin, letting him taste of luxurious pain for a split second, before nudging his wet tongue deeper to seek out the sweet spot. There was a barely audible _hiss_ from between Will's beautiful, sanguine lips when the tip of Hannibal's tongue found what it was looking for. Even without the veritable blank in their psychic link as Will was overtaken by the harsh spike in physical pleasure, Hannibal would've immediately been able to tell that he'd hit the spot. An eager growl wormed its way out of Hannibal's throat as he jammed his tongue against Will's prostate over and over again. Will tried to whimper but found the faculties too far from him. Noticing this, Hannibal relented, if only by a slight amount, and shifted his attention from lavishing Will with pleasure to more selfishly assuring that Will was open enough for him.

His tongue made relatively short work of that, but he was loath to abandon the taste of Will. So, instead of immediately moving to put his cock inside, he lingered and slithered his tongue up to Will's balls, pulling one of them into his mouth while his muscular tongue performed elated acrobatics against it. Then he wrapped a supple palm around Will's erection and began stroking him slowly, feeling the hard shaft pulse in his hand. “Mmh, Will, your taste is so good.” Hannibal panted, wet lips parted and white pupils the size of his eyes. Such praise earned him a prompt reminder of just how much Will enjoyed being endeared to like that, which gave Hannibal a hunger to continue. “So perfect. So wonderful.” He murmured, taking a moment to rub only the tip of Will's cock. “You want me inside you now, don't you?” Hannibal almost gasped, as though shocked by this revelation he'd just had.

Will's lesser consciousness didn't spend a moment debating; he, or at least whatever of him was available whilst he slept, agreed in an instant and with peerless fervor. Well, if he was truly so eager, then Hannibal would give him what he was asking for. Hannibal inched himself upright, keeping Will's legs up around his shoulders until he was sitting on his knees, his shaft flush with his prey's tender opening but not yet easing its way in. Hannibal stroked his cheek against Will's leg just below his knee, then kissed the soft skin and dealt a few gentle nips with his teeth. “I love you.” He whispered, so faint it was barely even a sound. But Will understood, in that place where there minds were connected, where they were both thinking the same and feeling the same. Adoration bloomed within Will and flooded into that shared place within moments, where Hannibal reveled in drinking it in.

With closed eyes he kissed softly all the way down Will's calf, slowing down to pull his foot closer and kiss the top of it where he could feel the rigid bones that lay so close to the placid surface of his fragile skin. Then with a grin as devilish as was fitting he pulled two of Will's toes just past his lips and loved them with his keen black tongue. Exceptionally ticklish, Will's whole foot tensed and his toes quivered and curled, unsure of whether they wanted to pull themselves closer to or further away from the sensation that was assailing them. Their assailant chuckled at such helplessness and let his teeth play with Will's toes now, until Will's nerves grew so feverish at the feeling that he groaned in his sleep and Hannibal knew the risk of waking him was too great. “So _naughty_, Will.” He muttered through an apparently unshakable smile. “You like that feeling, don't you?” And the end of his tongue danced ever-so-lightly across the sole of Will's foot, which was so immensely sensitive that a twitch passed up through the full length of that leg. Hannibal huffed within an inch of laughter again, but despite the sinful bursts of joy he found in teasing Will like this, he'd already had enough of stalling.

Wrapping a hand around his shaft, Hannibal stroked himself several times, humming in anticipation and maneuvering Will's leg back into position with his free arm. Then, with the agonizing care and delicacy of a painter making his final brushstroke, Hannibal nudged the head of his cock against Will's open, wanting hole and urged it to accept him. It slid inside as easily as it could have, and Hannibal had to stunt an excited swish of his tail into nothing but a meager quiver. Stilling for a second to keep himself from being carried away by the roiling tide of his excitement, Hannibal listened to Will's unconscious babble seep right through his dream at the elation of being penetrated, such thoughts intelligible only in their wordlessness. With a few whispers from his own mind, Hannibal soothed him, pressing a little concentration to land himself a glimpse of the images in Will's mind's eye.

As dreams are wont to be, they were conceptual, incomplete, nigh uninterpretable – fragments of sensation jostling and colliding with each other in the softest part of Will's brain, crude amalgamations of known sensations to create something that seemed like it could be what his body was feeling. Hannibal saw himself wrapped around Will, Will wrapped around him, reaching his pale hands out to trace some facet of Hannibal's body but admiring too much of him to be able to decide where. As Hannibal listened, humming notes of affection over Will's abstracts, his focus slunk back to the physical world nudged his knees up under Will's hips, raising them so that he could penetrate more deeply once he started moving properly. Still lauding Will with graces of affection, Hannibal at last initiated short, shallow thrusts of his hips. The movement was slight, almost ineffectual in its gingerness, meant only to endear Will to the idea of constant motion affecting his body.

Yet Will seemed more than endeared to that concept already; seemingly from the very moment Hannibal started pushing into him, Will was loving him as passionately as he could without crossing back over into the waking realm, hole twitching faintly as he tried to tighten around Hannibal and urge him deeper in, demand that he not pull out for so much as a moment. He was envisioning Hannibal by face and begging to him by name, illustrating in fine twists of feeling just how much he wanted Hannibal and simply could not resist his urges as a result. Fawning and flattery were lethally effective against an entity so naturally self-absorbed as the one hitched to Will right now, and it took all of Hannibal's restraint to do naught but lean forward – maneuvering Will's legs off his front and coaxing them to wrap around his back – and kiss Will at the corner of his velvet lips. This did not serve to abate Will's desires any, merely augment them with amorphous illusory images of their mouths locked together in impossible configurations.

Still resting Will beneath him, Hannibal nuzzled Will's cheek and listened to him gasp faintly as Hannibal gave one fierce, shocking buck of his hips. “Hmm, you want it harder, dirty boy?” Hissed Hannibal, throat thrumming like a bowstring as he fired his words directly into Will's waiting ear. Will gave him an answer; he had already given him an answer, been pleading with him for exactly that, but still at the prompt he filled Hannibal's head with professions of his submission and swore _yes, yes please_. “You want my cock deeper inside you?” Hannibal continued, whispering through an icy white grin. When Will's answer was a desperate _yes_, Hannibal gave him another sudden deep thrust, imagining the single raspy breath that danced from Will's lips morphing into a vivid moan of pleasure. Oh, how he would love to hear Will scream out loud the way he deserved a chance to. Hannibal licked his lips as he fantasized, letting hot, foggy breath escape past his sharp teeth.

Holding his face hardly an inch from Will's, Hannibal watched him with a coldly attentive gaze unreflective of his excitement as he eased his cock deeper and deeper, going slowly and minding the resistance so as not to cause Will too much pain. Even unable to tense fully, Will was still tight enough that the pressure of him around Hannibal's cock was immensely pleasurable, and Hannibal couldn't bring himself to stop until he was absolutely as far in as he could get. “Oh, you feel so good, dear.” He gasped, spine bowing into a deep arch and tail curling into an s-shape over his back. Will was all but blank for a few moments while Hannibal was so deep in him, but where any other thought was absent there was instead a wonderful flood of quiet ecstasy. Will was elated to be knit together with Hannibal so wholly, so perfectly, yet his body was rioting at the conflict between the unbearable pleasure and the sheer invasiveness of the sensation.

Hannibal held himself there for a few precious moments, letting Will endure, savoring every second. When he pulled back, he did so just as slowly as he'd eased in, cock twitching violently and lungs struggling to contain his breath. Once he was resting with only the tip of his shaft inside, Hannibal burst into a grin and shoved himself back in to that deep, sacred part of Will, this time with no warning and virtually no caution. Will whimpered and quivered faintly in his chest, but it wasn't enough to wake him. "This is what you want, isn't it?" He trilled, his voice descending into an unearthly growl at the conclusion of his phrase. Another harsh, staggering thrust and Will gasped just behind his tongue. Hannibal traced the apex of Will's cheek with the point of his claw, so delicately it certainly wouldn't scratch but could still be felt more than well enough. "You want it _harder_?" He teased; Will did not hesitate to bounce an answer back to him, echoing his own affirmation several times to make sure Hannibal knew just how terribly he _did_ want it.

Will was still and inert, but Hannibal still managed to move in time with him, syncing the rolling of his hips with Will's telepathic pleas. In fact, he did so almost without thinking; it felt all but natural, all but _right_, when Will was speaking to Hannibal and not to some menial illusion he had thrown up between them. Where once there was a barrier, however frail, there was now nothing. They were _together _at last, and now that they were here Hannibal found himself more than certain that this was what he'd wanted all along. Perhaps Will's pleas were just as much his own - the product of him feeding off of Hannibal's previously restricted longings, magnifying them to magnify themselves and spurring Hannibal on to fuck into him harder and harder. As his hips jerked continuously faster, Will's sex kept brushing against Hannibal's taut stomach, igniting his synapses and dissolving any power he had left to think. Hannibal could practically see the pleasure crackling through his nerves - not just from his sex, but from inside as well, where Hannibal's cock was pressing and rubbing almost constantly against his prostate. What power he had left to think with was fading under the rising tide of sheer sensation, and soon he would be all but blank.

Hannibal shifted his body weight counter to Will's and lifted his hips even more, pitching the angle of his penetration so that it hit that 'sweet spot' even more precisely. Hannibal kneaded Will's sheets in his hands, smirking at the thought of accidentally leaving some tiny puncture wound in the fabric. A little clue for Will to find later, perhaps mutter at about how wily his canine companions could be. Of course, he would know underneath that veil that it was not so easily explained, but he would always default to something attainably rational. Hannibal passed a fingertip over Will's smooth lips, feeling his warm, quickening breaths caress it. He let himself have a lull, one more brief moment to relish the intimacy of this visit before he let his lust carry him to his climax. "Yes, dear...just surrender yourself to the pleasure." Hannibal murmured, though with Will unable to decipher specific words he may very well have been instructing himself. The fiend then whipped his tail in excitement and held Will's body close to his own as he rutted zealously and unapologetically into him. Will seemed to have listened to him and was all but blank in a few moments. Even his dream was dissolving, lessening into something so shapeless it wouldn't even leave behind a memory.

Hannibal arched his lower back, pulling his stomach away from Will to prevent his cock from continuing to slide along it. Will _could_ come now, but that was not quite what Hannibal had planned. If he kept Will's focus chained to that internal pleasure, he could let the ecstasy carry Will through Hannibal's climax, to the point where he wouldn't even be embittered by any sense of denial despite the absence of his own orgasm. Of course, he wouldn't be held back from that sweet rush of enfeebling pleasure forever; it was no wet dream if it wasn't _wet_, after all, and as far as Will was concerned, that was all this was. Hannibal was going to give him a _magnificent_ orgasm, one he would remember long after he woke up, one which would stand out even among all the dizzying sexual encounters they'd had in the last few weeks. The mere thought of it was dragging Hannibal under, pulling him beneath the surface of a hot, roiling sea and to that stunning, breathless place where nothing mattered but that _triumphant_ pleasure, the final realization of all the lust that burned and bubbled within him so silently by day. Hannibal surrendered to it immediately and buried his face into the crook of Will's shoulder to breathe him in while his climax flooded over him, his frantic thrusts slowed to a halt and he purred at the satisfaction of spilling inside Will.

His ecstasy was nearly equaled within Will, leaving him just barely shy of coming and only held back by the scattered pleas Hannibal managed to send him, insisting that Will restrain himself with every ounce of mental fortitude he had. Will certainly didn't do so quite as intensely as Hannibal was willing him to, but he didn't come when Hannibal came, and that was what was important. Though, not a beat after the peak of his climax, Hannibal felt himself wishing he had let Will come with him. How joyous that would have been, to both share the best of their pleasure at once in that unsteady space between their two minds. But such was not to be; Will would have woken up far too quickly, and the moment had already passed for Hannibal. He was left quivering on top of Will, still locked together with him in a tangle of crooked limbs. Hannibal nuzzled his face at the base of Will's neck and carefully pressed the point of his tongue against the skin there, letting it follow the warm veins up his neck's length and leap off before it hit his jaw. Will quivered at this sensation, which brought a hint of a grin to Hannibal's face, mere moments before he finally started to lift himself up and slowly pull out, consoling Will when his body lamented at the sudden emptiness. "_Shh-shh-shh_, darling." Hannibal whispered, tail still twitching with excitement as the final buzz from his climax gradually dwindled down to nothing.

Hannibal stroked the soft, sleep-warm skin of Will's cheek with his knuckles. "There we are. Yes, just a moment longer, dear." He cooed. Despite his best attempts to console Will, Hannibal's precious prey was still all but feverish with un-vented lust. Though his blood was still rushing through his body, feeling thin as water as it surged up and down his veins with the heightening energy of sexual ecstasy at its back, Hannibal slowly and reluctantly sat himself back up on his knees. He tried not to give too much attention to the expected expression of dissatisfaction from Will; he thought it best to simply expedite the process of untangling the two of them, sliding his body back so that he was once again hunched almost like a gargoyle near the end of Will's bed. He left a warm, delicate kiss just below Will's navel, not quite letting his lips touch the tip of Will's cock but coming more than close enough to tease him. This playful torment continued as Hannibal's mouth glided over the length of his shaft, buffeting it with hot and humid breath but never lighting anywhere to pleasure him further. It was simultaneously too much and not enough for Will, floundering in his own desperation and finding no mercy from Hannibal. Another kiss finally landed next to his rim, hole now blinking from its rigorous fucking and lightly smeared with Hannibal's seed.

Hannibal cracked a selfish smile at the beauty of the sight, before letting his long tongue spring out from between his teeth and twirl over the edge of Will's opening. Tasting his own seed as it flowed out from his victim's entrance, Hannibal moaned onto Will's hole and in a flash felt that surging, violent pleasure return to Will. "See? I keep my promises." Hannibal murmured, lovingly licking more of his seed from Will's wet hole. There was no resistance this time when his tongue slid inside, pulling back into Hannibal's mouth with more cum, which he swallowed with no moment of hesitation. Such he repeated several times, pausing to hammer the pointed end of his tongue with the utmost precision against Will's prostate. Will clenched down on his tongue as well as he could, and Hannibal continued his enthusiastic attendance of his sweet spot. Will whimpered in his sleep and Hannibal braced his hands against Will's thighs, saliva leaking down his chin as he licked aggressively at Will's prostate. 

Then whiteness and blind heat overtook anything conscious in Will's mind and his cock was wracked with spasms, painting long streaks of pale, glistening seed over his stomach. It soaked into his t-shirt in a few moments, as Hannibal kept his tongue flush with Will's pleasure point. Oh, if only he could've let that moment last forever, ridden the crest of that wave of ecstatic sexual relief for so much longer than those infinitesimally short few seconds - then his existence would've been sheer perfection. But, alas, it was not to be so. Will, having been borne to release, was already desperate to wake - and if he did, Hannibal couldn't risk being seen. With a whimpering sigh of dissatisfaction, loathing that this ever had to end, Hannibal slid himself as fast as he dared out from between Will's legs, landing on the floor at the end of his bed and taking care not to let Will's briefs get caught on his horns. As deftly as he had slid down, Hannibal grasped the waistband of Will's underwear and pulled them back up his legs, stopping once they were just barely pinning down his still-hard cock. "Hmm, poor dear, it looks like you've come all over yourself." He hummed, though Will was beyond most suggestion by now. "You couldn't keep it in your pants this time, could you?" Came another smitten purr. He pressed his index finger against the head of Will's oversensitive cock, and he gasped audibly. An audacious move on Hannibal's part, but he had never claimed to be anything less. Then, removing his fingertip, Hannibal sidled up beside will and gently brushed his hair off of his forehead, laying a momentary kiss there before his body dissolved back into its amorphous, misty form, immediately seeking the nearest draft and squeezing itself out his bedroom window.

Had he been able to look back, perhaps he might, for the cold Virginia wilderness was not in the slightest bit as welcoming as Will's warm and tender embrace.


End file.
